


Touch Me (Just Like That)

by lupwned



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: A year in the life of these nerds, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:57:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where I go, when I go there<br/>No more whispering anymore<br/>Only hymns upon your lips<br/>A mystic wisdom, rising with them to shore ~ Spring Awakening, "Touch Me"</p><p>12 months, 12 phases, 12 touches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January, February, March

**Author's Note:**

> Keeping with my Holtzbert fic theme of titling my fics after songs from musicals, I hope you, the awesometastic reader, enjoy this. As always, you can find me over on tumblr at awomanontheverge, where I obsess over musicals and Holtzbert.

**JANUARY**

Their touch is accidental.

 

It starts with a reach for a dry erase marker and a brush of arms. The hair on Erin’s arms stands, and she’s not sure whether it’s the electric current of Holtzmann’s machine or something alternatively electric between them.

Holtzmann moves right and Erin moves left in a silly dance that still doesn’t prevent either scientist from bumping into each other as they maneuver around the lab. After dodging back and forth, Erin sighs, exasperated. “It’s like you’re doing it on purpose,” she sighs, stopping in front of Holtzmann, who is blocking her way toward the whiteboard.

“Doing what?”

“Nothing,” she grumbles, finally able to approach the white board.

Erin works, tunnel visioned on the equations she’s attempting to solve. That is, until Holtzmann brushes against her back as she passes between Erin and a wooden chair and makes her way toward her collection of screws and bolts in the corner of the room. Heat crashes through Erin’s body like a tidal wave and goosebumps accompany the hair that stands on her arms and neck.

Accidental, Erin tries to convince herself. Coincidental and accidental.

 

 

**FEBRUARY**

Their touch is flirtatious.

The snow falls hard and fast and blankets New York City in over a foot of white. Erin watches out the window, forlorn. February 14th. Valentine’s Day. She’s supposed to go out on a blind date with Jim – or was it Joe? - but there’s no way that’s happening with the blizzard making it’s way down the street. Curled up in the large upstairs window, she rests her forehead on the window glass and watches as the storm intensifies. It’s going to be awhile before she goes anywhere, the entire city under a travel ban in preparation of the cleanup that will inevitably have to occur.

Valentine’s Day with Abby, Patty and Holtzmann. Erin laughs a little to herself. She’s certainly had worse.

Holtzmann enters the room, a whirlwind of curls and oil and smoke. She pushes the trigger on her electric screwdriver as some sort of engineer’s “hello”.

Erin watches as Holtzmann walks over to her desk – covered with an array of notebooks and papers and blueprints – and sets down the tool in her hand. She rests her elbows on the table and her cheeks in her hands and stares at Erin, a big, dimpled smile on her face.

“What?” Erin scratches her forearm, slightly uncomfortable.

“Nothing.”

“Sure looks like something.”

“Nope.” Holtzmann smiles wider.

“Then why are you staring at me?”

“Cause your face is fun to look at.”

Erin scoffs. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or…” She stops as Holtzmann reaches into her desk drawer, pulls out something, and hides it behind her back. With that stupid grin - that Erin most _definitely_ doesn’t like - on her face, Holtzmann approaches Erin in the window and presents what’s in her hands: a red envelope with a small chocolate rose (painted crimson with foil) taped to the top. She places it on Erin’s lap and sits next to her in the window, sitting cross-legged with her elbow resting on the window frame.

Erin looks at Holtz, then back at the envelope. With an eyebrow raised suspiciously, she turns the envelope around and opens it, pulling out a small white card. At its base, it’s a cheap, Dollar Store card, but with further inspection, it’s so much more than that. The white card is decorated with hand drawn roses and hearts, as well as glued-on ribbon in an assortment of colors. There’s a clear attention to detail that does not go unnoticed. Erin brushes her fingertips over the silky ribbon before opening the card.

Inside, with an accompanying image of two angles, in Holtzmann’s scratchy handwriting:

 

**I find _all_ of your angles complimentary. **

**Happy Valentine’s Day, Ghost Girl.**

**Jillian**

 

Holtzmann runs the fingertip of her index finger in a little circle over the top of Erin’s hand in a flirtatious gesture that makes Erin shiver, though she’d swear to the world it was the frigid blizzard air seeping through the poorly insulated windows. There’s a myriad of thoughts and feelings buzzing through her body that Erin’s not entirely sure how to act on. She entwines the fingers of her right hand with Holtzmann’s and gives it a gentle squeeze, which Erin swears elicits the tiniest of squeaks from the woman across from her.

 

 

**MARCH**

Their touch is gentle.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Holtzmann warns. She folds the right corner of the page she’s reading in her book – _11/22/63_ by Stephen King – and throws it aside, then rushes toward Erin, who is attempting to fix the stuck handle on the kitchen toaster oven. “Why don’t you let me do it?”

“You always do it. I broke it, I can fix it.” Erin sticks a screwdriver deep in the toaster and twists.

“Gilbert, I’m an engineer. Please just-“ Holtzmann stomps her foot when Erin – without looking away from the toaster – pushes her away. Irritated, she runs her fingers through the knots in her hair and sighs, loudly, making sure the infuriating woman who is approximately 3.14159 seconds away from electrocuting herself hears her.

Erin, true to form, continues to ignore her.

“Seriously, just let me-“

She hears it. The familiar pop of a piece of equipment blowing a fuse. Erin yelps, and Holtzmann rushes back over to her, waving away the plume of smoke in their faces. “I told you,” Holtz grumbles.

Erin doesn’t say much. Instead, she cradles her right hand in her left, hissing through her teeth.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Holtzmann asks, reaching out to inspect Erin’s hand.

Erin recoils. “No,” she lies.

“You’re a terrible liar. And an idiot. Playing around with hot wires when you don’t know what you’re doing is really….it’s not smart.” Holtzmann reaches once again for Erin’s hand, and this time, the physicist doesn’t pull away.

“You do it all the time,” Erin huffs.

Holtzmann smiles. “That’s because I know what I’m doing.”

Erin gives her an incredulous look.

“ _Mostly_ ,” Holtzmann adds with a wink. “Now, let me get a good look at this…” She inspects Erin’s hand with great detail, concerned about the red skin that’s beginning to blister. “Let’s fix this up. Don’t worry. I’m a doctor.” Holtzmann smiles. Erin, in turn, rolls her eyes.

Despite the calluses on her hands, Holtzmann is gentle as she runs Erin’s hand underneath ice-cold water. She leads Erin over to her workbench. “Sit,” she instructs, and Erin doesn’t fight it, instead watching as her hand continues to swell.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch,” Holtzmann warns, reaching into her desk to get a small tube of aloe burn cream. It’s not exactly her first time in the burn rodeo. Carefully, she gathers a little bit of cream on the tip of her finger and as gently as she possibly can, spreads it across the hot skin. Once complete, she blows on it softly and smiles up at Erin, who is biting hard on her lip. “Now, want to tell me what in the hell you were doing?”

“Fixing it.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? I got an A in Toasters 101 in college.”

“I’m not incapable.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Holtzmann leans her weight on one hip and rests her hand on Erin’s shoulder.

“I…” Erin looks up at her. “I was trying to….do it myself. Maybe even impress you.” She sits up a little straighter on the stool. “Maybe.”

Holtzmann snorts. “Gilbert, there are other ways to get my attention that don’t involve you electrocuting yourself.”

“Like?” Erin blinks up at her. It seems more of a genuine question than playful banter.

Holtzmann stares. “I don’t know. Basically anyth-“

Erin kisses her. Just barely, but it’s a kiss. Their lips brush against each other so gently, so softly that it causes Holtzmann’s brain to short circuit. By the time she processes what is happening, Erin rushes out of the room.

Holtzmann blinks. She traces her lips with her fingertips and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon... :)


	2. April

**APRIL**

Their touch is warm.

 

Post kiss, Erin avoids Holtzmann like the plague. She makes sure to pair up with Abby during haunts and when they’re all together, Erin mostly keeps quiet, throwing herself into her research. She doesn’t regret kissing Holtz; on the contrary, she’d dreamt of doing it for quite some time. However, she knows better than to dabble with a workplace romance, so she forces herself to push the affection aside, hoping that Holtzmann will take the hint and let it go.

In the early weeks of April, Abby is personally invited to speak about the team’s conquests as Ghostbusters at a conference in Los Angeles, California. Erin swallows down the pang of jealousy in her chest when Abby first tells her, but congratulates her best friend with a smile.

Much to Erin’s dismay, Patty explains she’s been invited to a family reunion in Orlando, Florida and she, too, will be gone during the beginning of April. Erin begs her to stay, but Patty refuses with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Girl, whatever’s going on between you two, you gotta figure it out. Put on your big girl panties and make nice.” Patty’s smile is large and white and her eyes sparkle deviously. “Or _take them off_ and make nice. Whatever works.”

Erin chokes out a protest, but Patty simply rolls her eyes and walks away with a wave of her hand.

Their week alone creeps up faster than Erin had expected. Abby and Patty leave the firehouse with suitcases in hand and quick goodbyes, promising to call when they’ve each made it to their destinations. Erin and Holtzmann wish them safe travels, and it’s Erin who closes and locks the door behind them. She turns, pressing her back against the frame, and looks at Holtz, who, in turn, is smiling at her with her hands in the pockets of her overalls. “Soooo…” Holtzmann says, slowly. She cocks her head and looks at Erin.

Erin’s not sure why, but Holtzmann’s gaze alone makes her ears warm and her stomach flip.

“I have work to do,” Erin lies, looking down at her shoes as she starts shuffling away toward the staircase to her office. She stops, however, when Holtzmann’s small yet strong hand slides into hers and tugs her back with a gentle pull.

“Can we talk?” Holtzmann says softly.

Erin purses her lips. “No,” she responds defiantly.

Holtzmann lets out a frustrated noise that’s barely human. “Are we just going to be awkward like this for the rest of our lives?”

“Yes.”

“ _Erin_.” Holtzmann’s voice is uncharacteristically firm, serious. It makes the hair on the back of Erin’s neck stand.

“ _What_?” Erin feigns annoyance in her voice, but, in all honesty, she’s desperate to hear what Holtz has to say.

“You kissed me.”

Erin pulls her hand away from Holtzmann’s and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Childlike, she responds with a mere shrug of her shoulders.

“I…” Holtzmann appears exasperated, running both hands through her hair. She lets out a slow yet loud breath through her mouth. “Whatever. Enjoy your week.” She takes a few steps toward a nearby table, grabbing a stack of paperwork and her cell phone. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

Like an out of body experience, Erin rushes forward and blocks Holtz from leaving the room. “Wait.”

Holtzmann raises her eyebrows and straightens her body in annoyance.

Before Erin truly realizes what she’s doing, it’s happening – again. The space between them disappears and Erin presses her lips against Holtzmann’s, this time with a little more force than their previously feather-light kiss. It lasts for an eternity in her mind and only a moment in reality; Erin pulls away and blinks a few times at Holtzmann, whose face and eyes register with a mixture of shock and excitement.

Barely a moment passes before Holtzmann drops the files in her hand with a loud thud. Grinning, she steps forward toward Erin, the space between them essentially nonexistent. Holtz dips her head, waiting for Erin to protest; she doesn’t.

Holtzmann’s lips are soft against hers. The engineer’s fingertips press gently into the back of her neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Her cheeks grow pink and hot as Holtzmann kisses her and kisses her and _kisses her_. It isn’t long before ticklish, warm kisses brush across Erin’s jawline to just below her ear, where Holtz daringly teases with a tiny flick of her tongue.

Erin lets out a shuddering breath.

“Will you,” Holtzmann whispers in her ear, then pauses, placing another small kiss just below Erin’s lobe, “go out on a date.” Another kiss, a little lower against Erin’s pulse, which pounds below Holtz’s lips. “With me,” she adds before stepping back and away.

Breathless and with her heart pounding in her ears, Erin nods before grabbing Holtzmann’s hand and pulling her to her once more. “Kiss me again,” she requests, desperately.

Holtzmann smiles and does just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to have April, May and June all in one chapter, but this one got a little longer than expected and life has been nutty. Next chapter will have the other two months. Kudos and comments make the author smile :) As always, you can find me over on Tumblr at awomanontheverge!


	3. May & June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliiiiiiightly NSFW :)

**MAY**

Their touch is careful.

 

Erin and Holtzmann spend the end of April into May casually dating. Despite Holtzmann’s perpetually flirtatious nature, they take things slow, opting for teasing touches, longing stares and the always-delightful sneaky makeout session in the back of Holtzmann’s lab. On their days off, they enjoy the cool late spring air, walking through the park together some days while exploring New York City during others. One day, they stumble upon a used bookstore with chipped paint and faded curtains but a lifetime of charm and history. Holtzmann promptly buys over a dozen books from the “last chance” section where each item is marked 25 cents.

“They were lonely,” Holtzmann explains, thumbing through her purchases, all three dollars of so of them, as she sits next to Erin on a bench a few blocks away from the firehouse.

Erin squints. “The books were lonely?”

Holtzmann nods. “Look at them.” She holds out one book as an example, its cover printed with some sort of terrible 70’s crime-thriller art that is wrinkled and slightly torn on the right side. “Can you imagine the story _behind_ the story? It’s had such a life. Who knows where this thing started out?” Carefully, Holtz opens the front cover and delicately turns the first few pages, analyzing. “The _Queen of England_ could have owned this book for all we know!”

Erin laughs and shakes her head. “Somehow I highly doubt that the Queen of England owned…” - she reaches into Holtz’s bag of books and pulls one out at random – “… _Soul Snatchers_ by Michael Cecilione.” Erin snorts to herself and turns to the first page, reading aloud. “Soul Snatchers. They want more than your body.” She chuckles to herself then looks at Holtz, who is totally ignoring her, entranced with the novel she’s delicately turning the pages of. “I’m a self confessed book-lover myself, but the pages are barely bound anymore. These poor things are a mess.”

Holtzmann stops, resting her right hand on the last page she’d turned to. She’s looking down, a few curls draped down the side of her face, but Erin can feel the change of mood in the air. She tosses the book back in the bag and cranes her neck to look at Holtz, who quietly refuses to look back.

“Just cause something is a little old or broken doesn’t mean you should just…” Holtzmann plays with the corner of the page. She sniffs and scratches an imaginary itch on her cheek. “It doesn’t mean you should just throw it away.”

“Woah there.” Erin turns her whole body toward Holtz, wrapping her left arm around her. Much to Erin’s dismay, Holtzmann stiffens. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I-“ Holtzmann closes the book and relaxes, just a little. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the cool spring air spicy and refreshing. Erin watches her, analyzes. She doesn’t pressure Holtzmann to say anything, aware there’s a deeper story there somewhere but cognizant it isn’t her place to push. Instead, she’s careful and tentative, stroking the back of Holtz’s neck and lazily twisting her fingertip around a few stray curls.

They’ll get to that chapter of Jillian Holtzmann’s autobiography when she’s good and ready.

 

 

**JUNE**

Their touch is hot.

 

On her deathbed, Jillian Holtzmann would swear she hadn’t brought Erin back to her apartment with the sole intention of seducing her. They’d finished a particularly romantic dinner at Le Rivage, where Holtzmann had dramatically read all of the French cuisine in her best Pepe Le Pew accent, which made Erin laugh so hard she’d snorted.

Holtzmann loves when Erin laughs.

“Want to come back to my place?” Holtzmann asks casually as they wait for the waitress to cash out their dinner check. She watches as Erin gulps down the rest of her wine, her eyes bulging slightly and her cheeks colored red from the rush of alcohol.

Erin fumbles for a moment with her cell phone, clearly feigning interest in something else to attempt to mask her nerves and give herself time to come up with a response. Holtzmann, amused, rests her elbow on the table and her chin against her knuckle, gazing dreamily. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Holtz adds a few seconds later. “No pres-“

“I’d love to,” Erin eventually agrees.

The cab ride is terribly awkward, with the driver trying to make small talk, commenting how wonderful it is for two friends to spend a summer night out together.

This time, it’s Holtzmann who snorts.

They barely make it inside the apartment door before Erin pushes her against the doorframe, kissing her desperately.

Holtz shivers. She hums Erin’s name and lets her head fall back against the door with a gentle thud. Contentedly, she lets Erin kiss her messily, across her cheek and neck and shoulder. This isn’t exactly how she’d pictured this going, and she certainly hadn’t expected Erin to be the one in control.

“Holtzmann?” Erin pulls away from her, looking at her dead in the eye as though she’s looking into the depths of her soul.

It gives Holtzmann goosebumps.

“Mmm?” It’s all Holtz can muster with how dry her mouth and throat are.

“Touch me.”

It’s less a request, more a command. In another universe, Holtzmann may have squeaked.

No, wait – she soon realizes; it’s this universe.

She thinks back to when they’d had the week to themselves at the firehouse, and Erin had asked her – practically demanded – to kiss her. Now, they’re here, with Erin, fucking _breathtaking_ in her navy blue cocktail dress with a gold zipper all the way down the back, asking Holtzmann to _touch her_.  

Synapses finally firing, Holtzmann does as she’s asked. Achingly slowly, she drags her fingertips across Erin’s inner thigh, teasing. She tangles her free hand in brown waves – curled specifically for their date – and pulls Erin in for a slow, sensuous kiss.

Hot. Everything about Erin, Holtzmann learns, is hot. Her tongue and her breath and her skin, particularly below her ear, across her rib cage, between her thighs… Holtzmann kisses and sucks and caresses until Erin’s shivering against her.

Even shivering, Holtzmann determines, Erin burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire more! Come say hi over on Tumblr at awomanontheverge as well :)


	4. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

**JULY**

Their touch is scorching.

 

Summer hits New York City fast and hard. One day, it’s 70 degrees and breezy, and the next it’s 90 with 85% humidity. Their romantic strolls through the park grow fewer and fewer until the thought of even stepping outside makes the Ghostbusters want to gag. Even worse, despite there being air conditioning in the firehouse headquarters, it’s a massive space to cool, and as such, it doesn’t work as efficiently as the team would like. They’ve added a myriad of box and table fans, but even so, it’s positively miserable both inside and out, and the girls (and Kevin) are cranky with a capital C.

Scorching summer heat, however, does not deter the flirtatious nature of one Jillian Holtzmann. “Hey there, sunshine.” She glides next to Erin, who is sprawled across the sofa fanning herself with one hand and sipping a large glass of iced tea.

“If you even think about coming close to me, I swear to God, Jillian, I will not be responsible for my actions.” With impeccable timing, a few beads of sweat drip down Erin’s forehead and the back of her neck.

“Using the first name. Must mean business.” Holtz readjusts to the other end of the couch, distancing herself as much as she can from the sweaty, salty physicist across from her. Bright red cheeks and sweat-dampened hair do nothing to lessen how _gorgeous_ Erin looks.

“ _What?_ ” Erin asks after a few minutes of Holtzmann’s silent, wrinkle-nosed staring. She sets her almost-empty glass of iced tea on a nearby coffee table and watches Holtz, waiting for a response.

“You’re pretty.” Holtzmann bats her eyes.

Erin scoffs. “Yeah, I’m really gorgeous covered in sweat. Even my sweat is sweating. This tank top has boob sweat. _Boob_ sweat.”

Instinctively, Holtzmann’s steals a glance at Erin’s damp chest. The white tank is soaked through in the middle, and she can clearly see the outline of Erin’s nipples through it. A Chesire Cat-like grin spreads across Holtz’s face.

“ _What?_?” Erin repeats with a huff.

Holtzmann moves from a sitting to a kneeling position on the couch, scooting slowly toward Erin, her smile never faltering. “Have you ever heard of the game ‘ _Too Hot’_?” Carefully, she situates herself atop Erin, her knees on either side of her legs, while taking special care not to touch her.

“N-no.” Erin’s voice is a little shaky, which does not go unnoticed by the engineer in her lap.

“Please tell me you’ve seen The L Word,” Holtzmann begs.

“If I haven’t?”

“Oh, my bisexual muffin, you have a lot to catch up on.” Holtzmann waves her hand dismissively. “Another endeavor for another time.” She leans in closer, her nose almost brushing Erin’s. “I believe I was telling you how ‘ _Too Hot_ ’ is played, right?”

Despite her earlier protests, Erin doesn’t appear to be too upset about Holtzmann’s hovering. Instead, she nods as an answer to the lingering question.

Holtzmann explains the game, how they can kiss but cannot touch each other. The first person to touch loses. “Make sense?” she says softly, almost a whisper, against Erin’s lips. She barely waits, instead pressing her mouth against Erin’s and feeling her muffled answer in the form of a hum vibrating against her lips.

Touch is Holtzmann’s favorite sense. She loves feeling the world below her fingertips, learning its temperature and texture and shape. It’s why she loves inventing and engineering so much; it allows her to bring something to life, molding through her sense of touch as she manipulates the metal and wires in her hands. Other senses can trick, she knows that all too well, but touch is tangible and solid, justification that something simply _is_.

As Holtzmann kisses Erin, her girlfriend, – _Facebook official_ , she might add – she remembers just how much she loves touching her. Her palms itch as she tangles and entwines her fingers over her head to avoid any contact beyond their kissing, which starts relatively chaste – their lips brushing against one another teasingly, little presses and pecks – but quickly escalates. Erin’s tongue slips into her mouth – a daring move in this game that Holtzmann hadn’t expected Erin to take control in. They kiss more eagerly now, their breath scorching on each other’s cheeks in combination with the sticky summer air and the sweat dripping down both of their necks.

“Erin,” Holtzmann says, her voice deep, a little sultry, with a hint of desperation behind it.

“Yes?” Erin practically squeaks against her lips.

“You win.” Barely a beat, then Holtzmann’s hands are on her, one tangling in Erin’s hair while the other strokes the back of her neck where Holtzmann can feel the hair there stand against her fingertips. They kiss again, almost bruising, like they haven’t seen each other in months. A moan escapes Erin’s throat, a most delicious sound that makes Holtzmann’s hands shake, and the only way she can steady them is to keep touching her, every inch, every curve and contour, every bruise and scar.

Erin nips at Holtzmann’s lower lip and pulls away just slightly. She smiles. “What was the point of that if you were going to let yourself lose?”

Holtzmann smirks and grinds down into Erin’s lap, which elicits something between a yelp and a growl from the physicist. “You wouldn’t have let me touch you otherwise. So, regardless of what you may think, I won.”

“Is that right,” Erin hums. She pulls Holtzmann closer to her, which Holtz happily leans into. Erin’s mouth is just below her ear now, peppering the sensitive spot – one of her weaknesses, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud – with tickling kisses. “I have a game too,” Erin whispers. “It’s called ‘meet me in the upstairs shower and let’s see how many times I can make you cum before the water gets cold.’ What do you think of that game?”

It takes all of 60 seconds for Holtzmann to bolt off Erin’s lap toward the staircase to the bathroom, leaving a trail of sticky, sweaty clothing behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive? :)
> 
> Good.
> 
> Comments and kudos make the author smile.
> 
> More to come!
> 
> As a sidenote, any Holtzbert prompts - fluff, angst, whatever! - you may want to share, you can always send them over to my Tumblr at awomanontheverge. Happy reading!


	5. August

**AUGUST**

 

Their touch is loving.

 

The first time, Erin thinks nothing of Holtzmann’s words. They’re mid bust when Erin traps a series of teenage ghosts, barrel rolling down the sidewalk and catching each with a loud “ _whoosh_ ”. When Holtzmann sees it, a few strides behind Erin, she pumps her fists in the air and lets out a ‘ _whoop_!’ “Erin!!! Get it! _Love_ you when you kick some ghostly ass!” Leaving a loud, wet kiss on Erin’s cheek, Holtz jogs away to continue their bust, and Erin’s left in the wind, silent, sure that their tiniest Ghostbuster did not just say she loves her.

**-X-X-X-X-**

The second time, Erin’s _definitely_ misheard her. She’d been neck-deep in equations when the call came in, and despite her own protests, the team assured her they’d handle it on their own. “Be safe,” she’d instructed, fixing the collar of Holtzmann’s suit as they’d rushed out the door.

It’s 4pm when Erin receives a text from Abby letting her know they’re on the way back. Erin’s stomach growls a minute later. She realizes she hasn’t really eaten all day, and neither has the team, so she decides to make herself and the girls something to eat for when they get back.

She fills four plates with Gilbert specials – peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread with a side of strawberries and potato chips. It’s comforting and reminds Erin of her childhood, one of the few fond memories she has from it.

When the Ghostbusters arrive, they rush in like a storm, each of them talking excitedly about their day and the ghosts they encountered. Erin tries to follow the varied conversations, eyes wide and her head bouncing back and forth between each woman as she chews on a mouthful of PB&J.

“Is that peanut butter and jelly?” Holtzmann asks, grabbing a sandwich and stuffing it into her mouth before she can wait for a response. She lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” she mumbles, peanut butter sticking to the roof of her mouth and making her speech slightly garbled. “God, I _love you_.”

Erin’s breath hitches. “Are you talking to me or the sand….” Before she can finish her sentence, Holtzmann is out of the room with Patty’s sandwich in her other hand.

“You snooze you lose, Tolan!”

**-X-X-X-X-**

The third time, Erin can’t ignore it. When it happens, Holtzmann sits in Erin’s lap, lazily kissing her cheek and running her fingers through dark brown hair. Erin hums at the contact, a perfect mix of sexy and soothing, Holtzmann’s mouth revving her up but the fingers in her hair lulling her into a cozy, relaxed dream. Hot breath tickles just below her ear as Holtz kisses there, and kisses there, and _kisses_ there. Erin’s lost in Holtzmann’s soft, lazy touch when she hears it, the three words whispered in her ear that both warm and burn her.

“I love you.”

That brings her out of her haze, stiffening below Holtzmann’s touch. Erin’s certain she’d misheard it before, but there’s no denying what Holtz just said. “What did you say?” Erin asks, her voice tiny and shaky.

Holtzmann nuzzles below Erin’s ear with her nose. “I said, _I love you_ ….” When Erin still doesn’t say anything, Holtz sits up straight in her lap, staring down at her with icy blue eyes. Uncomfortable silence washes over them for a few moments, and when Erin still doesn’t respond, Holtzmann shifts uncomfortably. “ _Oh God_ , you don’t….ok. I’m sorry. I-“ She scratches the back of her head, then tries to stand, and it’s in that moment that Erin’s brain – her glorious brain that seems to take a vacation whenever Holtz touches her – finally kicks into gear.

“Jillian, wait.” Erin gently grabs for Holtz’s hand and pulls her back into her lap.

“Look, it’s ok. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m not used to having feelings like this, you know? It’s all new to me. I haven’t always had a support system, and I’ve never really had someone who’s been there for me and taken care of me like you have, and once we officially started dating, I just assumed how I was feeling was normal because isn’t that how people are supposed to feel in relationships? And then I just-“ Holtzmann’s speaking wildly and expressively, her hands waving in all directions and her words blurring together as she races through them. Erin can barely follow along with what Holtz is saying,

“Holtz.”

“But I don’t have a lot of experience with this, and I’m sorry if I overstepped boundaries or made you feel uncomfortable, and if you-“

“Holtz.”

“If you want me to just go, I will, and it won’t be easy but I promise I will-“

“ _Holtz!_ ” Erin pulls Holtzmann to her by her collar, pressing her lips roughly against the rambling engineer’s. It starts as a way to silence her but quickly develops into something more, loving and intimate, an answer without those three words needing to be spoken. But she does say it, Erin wrapping her arms around Holtzmann and pulling her closer. “I love you too.” It comes out soft, barely above a whisper.

“You _love_ me?” Holtzmann looks as though she may cry, as though she’s never heard anyone say it to her in her life, not in the way Erin has just said.

“I love you.” Erin smiles at her, running her hands beneath Holtzmann’s shirt to stroke up and down her spine.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Erin.” Holtzmann rests her palm against Erin’s chest, her eyes focused there as she drums evenly with her fingertips. “ _Please_ …”

Erin narrows her eyes and cocks her head. Holtzmann had given those three words so freely, but Erin’s unsure as to why she’s so quick to dismiss when they’re directed back at her. “I can’t speak for anyone in the past, Jillian,” Erin uses her first name, hoping to prove a point, “but I can promise you that I _do_ love you. I love you in all the ways you need and all the ways you don’t know you need. I love you when you kiss me and I love you when you wrinkle your nose when you laugh, and I even love you when you try to draw hearts with your blowtorch and end up catching my research on fire.” That finally elicits a laugh from Holtz, which sounds like absolute heaven to Erin’s ears.

Holtzmann simply nods, a big smile on her face that makes her dimples more prominent than usual. With a sigh that clears the tension in the air, she wraps her arms Erin’s neck and buries her face there. Erin says nothing when she feels tears against her shoulder, certain that, for one of the few times in Holtzmann’s life, they’re tears of joy.


	6. September

**SEPTEMBER**

 

Their touch is hesitant.

 

“Life or Monopoly?” Holtzmann asks, balancing the box of each in the palms of her hands.

Erin points to the rainbow-colored Life box in Holtz’s left hand. “I would like to leave here with our relationship still intact, and no couple can survive the horror that is Monopoly.” Erin smiles. “So I vote Life.”

“Good choice.” Holtzmann sets the game down on the coffee table and begins assembling the board.

Erin, in turn, organizes the money and gathers the player pieces. “What color car do you want?”

“Blue! No wait…” Holtzmann looks over the collection of options carefully, eyes darting back and forth between each color. Her forehead wrinkles and her tongue pokes out slightly from the corner of her mouth as she focuses on her options, as though her choice will set the course for the rest of her life. “Red.”

With a nod, Erin grabs the red and green pieces from the box and sets a pink peg in the driver’s side of the car. She places them at the starting spot on the board, then counts out $10,000 for each of them. “You can go first,” Erin suggests with a smile.

“And they said chivalry is dead.” Holtzmann winks before spinning the wheel.

“Career or college?”

Holtzmann taps her cheek with her index finger, contemplating. “Hmmm…” Scrunching her nose, she lets out a sigh before declaring her choice. “College, I suppose.”

“Why such a difficult choice?” Erin asks, beginning her own turn with a spin.

“We don’t _all_ aspire to be career academics,” Holtzmann teases.

Erin blinks and tightens her jaw, just enough for Holtz to notice. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Holtzmann shrugs. “Nothing. Just that education isn’t exactly my thing.” She looks down at the board, focusing on her red game piece and not the way Erin is staring at her, slightly offended, the vein in the side of her head prominent in the way it only is when she’s irritated.

“You were working at a _college_ when I met you,” Erin reminds her. She’s using _that_ voice, that stern, chastising voice that makes the back of Holtzmann’s neck burn.

Uncomfortable, Holtz shrugs again. “Wasn’t exactly my first choice. Just kinda ended up that way after…” She scratches her forehead. “I don’t regret it. Just wasn’t what I initially had in mind, is all. But I met Abby and Patty and you out of it, so good did come out of it all.” That, paired with a dimpled smile, calms the brewing storm across the table. A feeling of unrest, however, still bubbles deep in Holtzmann’s stomach. “Are you gonna move or what?”

“Right.” Erin taps her piece forward, stopping at the ‘ _Choose a Career_ ’ block.

Holtz grabs the deck of available jobs and fans them out. “Pick a card, any card,” she instructs with a heavy New York accent.

Rolling her eyes, Erin choses a career card. She lights up at the sight of it, and Holtzmann immediately knows what she’s picked.

“Scientist?”

Erin nods.

“And your salary is….” Holtzmann grabs a random card from the other deck.

Erin frowns. “I thought I was supposed to pick from three?”

“Nah, the Holtzmann version is harder. All luck of the draw!” With a flick of her fingers, Holtz flips the card over. “$100,000! Hey there, sugar mama.” She winks.

When Erin laughs - a little snort followed by a strong vibrato – it’s like music to Holtzmann’s ears.

Shortly after, Holtzmann selects her own career – a librarian, a job that’s much too quiet and calm for her taste, but it’s just a game, so she brushes it off with a shrug of her shoulders and another spin of the wheel. Soon, they’re racking up LIFE tiles left and right. Erin keeps hers in evenly stacked columns, while Holtzmann’s are scattered across her side of the coffee table; to any outsider, the display would be a perfect representation of their personalities and relationship.

It’s not long before they approach the next big event in the game – getting married. Holtzmann excitedly adds additional pink pegs in each of their cars while humming ‘ _The Wedding March_ ’. “Erin, you’re the most beautiful, faceless, peggy bride I have ever seen.” Holtzmann bats her eyelashes in Erin’s direction and quickly elicits another laugh from across the table.

Eventually, Holtzmann’s leading in LIFE tiles, landing on several “baby” spaces as she makes her way across the board. Her car is filled with two additional pink pegs and one blue, and she can’t help but grin ear to ear when she adds one final one, filling her play-piece car.

“What a nightmare,” Erin comments with a chuckle before taking a sip of red wine from her glass.

Holtzmann cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The two of us in a car with four children. Absolute _nightmare._ ” Erin puts particular emphasis on the final word before reaching out to spin the wheel and start her next turn.

With fast reflexes, Holtzmann stops her, hovering her hand over the spinner. “Why is that a nightmare?”

“Well, I mean….come on,” Erin scoffs, gesturing up and down in Holtz’s direction.

“I…” The crease in Holtzmann’s forehead deepens and she swallows, hard, trying to discern what exactly the hell Erin is getting at. “The _fuck_?”

Not exactly what she was going for, but effective nonetheless.

“I mean…it’s…. _you_.” Erin pauses. “And…children? _Four_ children?”

Now Holtz’s face has turned into a full scowl; like an instinct, she crosses her arms over her chest defensively, protecting herself from the argument and verbal blows that are already starting to make her heart pound and blood simmer. “Are you implying that I shouldn’t _want_ children? Or that I’m not _responsible_ enough to have them?” Despite trying very hard to keep steady and calm, there’s a slight warble of emotion in her voice.

“No, I just…” Erin huffs. “I don’t know. I mean, come on, Holtz, it’s _you_.” She reaches out to Holtz from across the table, but the engineer quickly pulls away.

“You know, Erin,” Holtzmann begins, breathing slowly through her nose to keep herself steady, “I’ve heard a lot of people say a lot of terrible things to me. _About_ me. Behind my back, sometimes right in front of my face. I’ve been stereotyped and teased and excluded all my life by _so_ many people.” Erin tries to interrupt her, but Holtzmann raises a hand to stop her. “But you. Of all the people to spew unfounded and uneducated shit….”

“Jillian, I didn’t mean-“

Their eyes meet. They stay silent for a moment, each waiting for the other to pick up conversation, to apologize or brush the situation off as a joke. But Holtzmann’s not budging, her arms crossed over her chest again and her jaw hard and tight. The softness of her cheeks and dimples are gone, replaced with an intense stare that, Holtzmann hopes, causes Erin to feel nothing but shame and regret.

And then Erin says it.

“I don’t want children.” Quick. Emotionless. Matter-of-fact.

It’s not what Holtzmann expected Erin to say; maybe _‘I’m sorry’_ or _‘I love you and I’m a terrible, horrible jerk who implied some really terrible things’_ , but certainly not _that_.

“Oh.” Holtzmann sniffs and tightens her own embrace around her chest.

“I…I didn’t know, Holtz. I just assumed…” Erin stands with a groan, walking over to where Holtzmann sits, legs criss-crossed. She reaches out, attempting to caress Holtzmann’s shoulder and the mess of waves across her head and neck.

Cat-like, Holtzmann swerves. “I think you should go.”

“What?” Erin’s voice cracks a little, not in the way it does when Holtzmann kisses here _there_ or whispers teasingly in her ear, but in a way that is pained and off-guard.

“I said that I think you should go.” Holtzmann’s voice, on the other hand, is even, calm, devoid of any emotion.

“Holtz, please.” When Erin reaches out to try and embrace her once more, Holtzmann swats her away.

Erin doesn’t say anything as she collects her purse and coat from the closet. Afterward, Holtzmann swears she hears Erin take a deep breath and squeak out the beginnings of something – an apology, perhaps – but it never develops beyond that, the slam of the apartment door the only goodbye Holtzmann gets.

Holtzmann sits in the center of the room for awhile, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her cheek against her knees. The familiar and overwhelming feeling of sadness and betrayal prickles in her chest; it’s something she hadn’t really expected to feel with Erin. She’s not blind, and she knows that the honeymoon phase was bound to end at some point, but she’d never expected it to be like this.

Tears trickle down her cheeks, then flow freely, and the feeling of betrayal quickly bubbles into anger. Without thought, Holtzmann grabs the game board and throws it and its pieces across the room.

Whoever says Monopoly ruins relationships, Holtzmann thinks, has never played The Game of Life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I am so sorry updates have taken so long. Life has been crazy, the election has made me sad, and it's just taken awhile! Comments and kudos assuredly make the author smile and inspire more :)


	7. October

**OCTOBER**

Their touch is uncomfortable.

Sensitive is not a word Holtzmann would use to describe herself. She generally lets things roll off her shoulders, and rarely wastes time preoccupied with petty arguments. But Erin’s words cut Jillian to her core, and she finds it practically impossible to let them go.

Not that she doesn’t _try_. She attempts to hide the way her skin crawls when Erin presses up against her on the couch. Or how the smell of Erin's flowery perfume makes the hair on the back of her neck stand. It doesn’t take long for Holtzmann to realize that what once made her feel at home is now a Motel 6 on the side of the road.

Erin – in a display of true naivety or blatant denial – doesn’t seem to notice the change in Holtzmann’s behavior. Erin’s nonchalance about the entire situation only irritates Holtzmann even more. She tries to convince herself that she’s overreacting, that she’s obsessing over a small fight and a few misspoken words that don’t really _mean_ anything, but Jillian’s always been stubborn – the word written on the corner of her report card since she was old enough to step foot in a classroom – and she isn’t about to change after more than thirty years of stubbornness working in her favor.

Patty notices. She pulls Holtzmann aside one afternoon when Erin is on lunch pickup duty and straight up asks her what the hell is going on.

Holtzmann fakes a smile and assures Patty everything is fine, which promptly gets her a good side-eye in response. When Patty eventually leaves, Holtz runs her fingers through her hair and lets out a slow, shaky breath.

She doesn’t want to believe that it’s all falling apart. She _loves_ Erin.

She’s just not sure whether that’s enough anymore.

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

It isn’t how she planned to do it. She’d rehearsed the speech in her head over and over, repeated it shakily to herself in front of a mirror to make sure she stuck with the script. But that’s not how it happens, and Holtzmann doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

They’re fighting again. Because of _course_ they are. Erin asks her where she wants to go to dinner. Holtzmann simply responds with a shrug of her shoulders, and she knows it irritates Erin, knows that she shouldn’t purposefully start something with her indecisiveness, but she’s _tired_ and a shrug is exactly what she gives – no more, no less.

“Can you just pick, please?” Erin asks, followed by a frustrated sigh.

“Why? You seem to make the big decisions for us. I’m pretty confident you can pick where we get food too.”

Holtzmann’s shocked that she says it, that it comes out as quick and blunt as it does. It’s not untrue, but the words are sharp and Erin’s face twists into an expression of anger and surprise in response to it.

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It means what it means.”

Erin folds her arms tightly across her chest. Holtzmann can see her jaw clench and the vein in the side of her head pulse slightly in the way it only does when Erin is _truly pissed_ about something. “I don’t appreciate the way you’re being right now, Jillian.”

Holtzmann tosses the cell phone she’s been distracting herself with onto the other side of the couch she’s sitting on and looks up at Erin, who’s standing over her like a goddamned school teacher chastising their student. “You don’t appreciate the way _I’m_ being? That’s rich.”

“ _What_ is your problem?”

It’s on the tip of Holtzmann’s tongue before she has the chance to swallow it, has the chance to contemplate whether here and now is the place she wants to do it, but she’s so tired and pissed off and hurt. She jumps up from the couch and storms to the other side of the room to where her long black peacoat and duffel bag sit on Erin’s coatrack. “You,” she calls over her shoulder. “ _You_ are my problem.”

Erin lets out a short, anger-laced laugh. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Holtzmann keeps her back turned to Erin as she pulls her coat over her body in one swift motion. She buttons the top and middle buttons with hands that tremble. Despite her typically cool and composed demeanor, the confrontation makes Holtzmann’s anxiety skyrocket. History repeats itself, and the first thing she can think to do is _escape_. She swings her bag over her shoulder and turns to Erin, who has moved to the other side of the couch and is now only a few feet away from her.

“I think we should take a break, Erin.”

Erin looks shattered, the anger on her face washing away into something else entirely, something vulnerable and broken. It almost makes Holtzmann lose her resolve – _almost_.

“Wh-what? Jillian, please.” Erin takes a step forward and takes Holtzmann’s hand in hers.

It’s soft and gentle, and for a moment everything feels fresh and warm and how things _used_ to be. But something’s still rough around the edges, and where Erin’s fingertips brush across Holtzmann’s skin changes from something comforting to something irritating, like a bad aftertaste – something delicious that is spoiled by what’s left over in the end.

She wants to say something, wants to say “ _I’m sorry_ ” or the always cliché and full-of-bullshit “ _it’s not you, it’s me_ ”. But that would be a lie, because Holtzmann isn’t sorry, not with how she’s felt for the last month. “I love you, Erin,” is all she says before she leaves Erin’s apartment. As she closes the door, she swears she hears the sound of a sob from behind her. Feeling her resolve fading slightly, she rushes down the hallway and out of the building into the crowded streets of New York City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm _soooooorrryyyyyyyy_....


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